The Sanderson Sisters, a History
by The Zora Wizard
Summary: For everyone who loved the witches from the movie "Hocus Pocus," this fanfic delves into the lives of the Sanderson sisters before their fateful encounter with Max and his friends. It is a bit more serious than the movie, though humor is still present from time to time.


The Sanderson Sisters, a History  
Chapter I - Firstborn

"No! Don't you dare leave me Henry! Not _now_!" Margaret shouted at her now former lover who was already halfway out the doorway. The young man replied by slamming the door behind him and walking out of her home, and her life.

Margaret broke into tears and collapsed onto her moth-eaten couch where she lay and cried for hours. Once her eyes dried slightly, she read and re-read the note that Henry was planning on leaving her, before she came home unexpectedly early. It explained his unwillingness towards settling down, and focused primarily on how he wasn't ready for a child yet. "Well, he's not the one who's bound to a child, now is he? I don't want it anymore than he does… I probably can't care for it either." She said to herself, tossing the note aside and staring at her stomach, which wasn't even beginning to show signs of pregnancy. Margaret had just missed her "monthly curse", as she called it, a couple of weeks ago, and was foolish enough to inform Henry about it.

"I knew that he didn't want children… why did I tell him?" She thought about it for a minute and finally said "Because I believed that he loved me…"

Getting a glass of water to soothe her throat, Margaret moped around her house, hoping that Henry would return. She knew it was pointless, but right now she wanted to wallow in denial to help cope with her situation. Looking up at the cracked mirror on her wall, she saw a tired, twenty-two year old lady with frazzled, unkempt brown hair and dark circles under her eyes staring back at her. She looked at least ten years older than she actually was, and it was mainly due to her recurring insomnia. She hadn't slept for four days, and her face showed it. Raising a pale, thin hand, she attempted to tame her horribly wavy mess of hair, but quickly gave up when it seemed to just spring back to its previous position.

Her house, if it could be called that, was a wreck. The uneven floorboards showed slivers of earth and undergrowth beneath them, and the threadbare rug in front of the door had a pattern so faded that no one could make it out anymore. Her kitchen contained a single cauldron for cooking, a pitcher of stagnant water, and a few pieces of worthless, stolen cutlery, which she took from her job as a scullery maid for Mr. Smith, an elderly, middle class man who was beginning to lose his sanity. Aside from this, there was her bedroom, which was an even more depressing sight. There were only two rooms in her abode, and it was small enough to fit many times inside nearly all of the other houses that could be seen from the hole she called a window. That was the only thing spectacular about her home, the view.

She had a view overlooking the entire town, and she could see everything that happened within its boundaries. Margaret would sit at that window and watch ladies walking around town for a day of shopping, or gentlemen constantly getting in and out of carriages which trollied them around the town. What fascinated her most was the church.

It was the tallest building in the town, with a steeple topped with a crucifix, and magnificently colored windows which depicted various scenes that she could hear about when she had the time to sit in for a sermon. Since she was too poor to afford books and the theatre, Margaret usually went to hear the preacher talk about the bible, and other religious stories, for her main source of entertainment. She enjoyed listening to the fantastic tales, and the talk of how people were rewarded in the afterlife for proper behavior in this life. "Ah, that'll be the day… when I'm finally rewarded for all my hard work in this life… where I have little more than nothing."

Over the next few months, Margaret went about her life as usual, until the burden in her abdomen became too much to bear and she had to retire to her bed for most of the day. A nun she befriended from the church visited her daily to check how far along her pregnancy was, and she soon decided that Margaret's house was not fit for birthing a child in. The nun, Sister Agatha, chose to take her to rest in the church until the baby was old enough to walk. She helped gather a couple things of Margaret's and they set off towards the town, Margaret leaning dependently on Sister Agatha's shoulder.

They were midway down the hill on which Margaret resided when the cool yet sunny weather of autumn abruptly changed to a maelstrom of rain. "Oh goodness… where did all this rain come from? There was not a cloud in sight a few minutes ago!" Sister Agatha shouted in disbelief. Perhaps due to Margaret being startled by the sudden onslaught of a torrent, her water broke and splashed onto the sparse grass between her feet. She felt the sudden pain of labor, and was forced to lie on the ground when her legs became weak. Sister Agatha barely noticed Margaret's struggle when she unexpectedly felt her hand being pulled down by the collapsing mother-to-be. "Oh dear…" She exclaimed when she saw the event. "You can't have the baby yet! This is terrible! We have to get you to town!"

She tried in vain to drag Margaret towards the town, which was still about half a mile away, and barely visible through the rain. "This baby isn't waiting for anyone! Either I'm going to have it here, and you'll help me, or I'll have to have it by myself! Damn it!" Margaret screamed loudly, causing Sister Agatha to flinch at her language. "Okay dearie, I'll help you, but only because that's the only option we have…"

The ordeal of birth lasted about two hours, during which the rain never subsided, and a nearby tree got stricken down by lightning. Margaret lay on the ground, breathing, yet unconscious due to the pain, and Sister Agatha was cleaning the remains of birth while holding the newborn wrapped in her habit. "Oh, thank heavens she's safe… I think they'll both be fine as soon as I can get them to the nunnery." With this, she began to attempt to awaken Margaret, eventually succeeding, so that they could make their way down to the town. Sister Agatha handed the little baby to Margaret, simply saying "It's a girl." Margaret scooped her up gratefully and watched her squirm in her arms. "Oh… she's darling… and look at that beautiful red hair!" She said, to which Sister Agatha replied "Well? What are you going to name her?" Margaret thought for a minute, and eventually decided on the child's name. Winifred. "Winifred? Umm… if I may ask, why Winifred?" Sister Agatha asked, seemingly concerned. "Well, it means 'friend of peace', and… after a birth like that, I would like her name to protect her through the rest of her life. Let it be long…."


End file.
